The Arab Refugee

Ants gnaw his flesh
Crows peck his flesh
The Arab refugee nailed to the cross.

The Arab refugee
Begs and spends his nights in railway stations
Crying his eyes out.
And Jaffa is just a small label
On a box of oranges.

Stop knocking on my door
There’s no life left in me.
And Jaffa is just an orange label
It leaves the dead undisturbed.

They’ve sold the memory of Saladin
They’ve sold his horse and shield
They’ve sold the grave of refugees.

Who would buy an Arab refugee for a loaf of bread?
My blood is running dry
But you go on laughing.
I am Sinbad
I store my treasures in your children’s hearts.

Ants gnaw his flesh
Crows peck his flesh
The Arab refugee begging at your door.

-Abdul Wahab Al-Bayati